


Awakening

by rufousnmacska



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: A Court of Thorns and Roses - Freeform, ACOTAR - Freeform, ACOWAR, Depression, F/M, Post-A Court of Wings and Ruin, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, a court of frost and starlight, a court of mist and fury, a court of wings and ruin - Freeform, acofas - Freeform, acomaf, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 14:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14594589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufousnmacska/pseuds/rufousnmacska
Summary: This is a little nessian story set shortly before the teaser at the end of acofas.Trigger warning - self-harm, suicidal thoughts, depression





	Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> I head canon that Cassian is the one who first brought up the intervention idea to Feyre because he didn’t know what else to do. And while Nesta’s fight with Amren was likely a big reason for the intervention (among other things), I wondered what could have been Cassian’s “last straw”… and this is what came of it. (Sorry!)
> 
> Trigger warning - self-harm, suicidal thoughts, depression

The blade sat perfectly balanced across the lip of the tub. It gleamed briefly when a shaft of late afternoon light found its way through the grimy window. Nesta couldn’t remember when she’d first started carrying it with her into the bathing room. She was never armed with a weapon, and she wasn’t even sure where this one had come from. Perhaps it was left by some male who’d warmed her bed. 

A shiver ran up her spine. The water had grown cold. How long had she been sitting here? Holding her hand up to her face, she stared blankly at the wrinkled skin.

Sunlight glinted off the knife again and her eyes caught on it and stayed there, as if under a spell.

She was fae now. Did that mean she would heal as quickly as other fae did? If she dragged that edge through her skin, would it stitch itself back together? Or would she just sit here and watch as her blood flowed around her, like some strong, dark liquor mixing with icy water in a glass?

The hand she was studying reached out and took hold of the knife. It was not insubstantial in size and weight and she noticed some ugly nicks along it’s edge. But it was still sharp. It would do. 

As the tip pressed a divot into her arm, a loud succession of knocks came from her front door. Nesta jumped in alarm, causing water to splash out of the tub. Her movement made the knife cut a short but deep line into her skin. Blood beaded quickly and she looked from the wound to the knife and back again, blinking as her surroundings shifted back into focus. Full understanding came to her slowly, as if she had to pull her mind from an endless expanse of thick mud. 

“I know you’re here. I heard you swear.”

Startled by the deep voice, the knife clattered to the floor, breaking its spell over her. _Had I sworn?_ she wondered, grabbing a washcloth to press into her arm. The bleeding wasn’t too bad, and it looked as though it was already starting to heal. 

“Nesta, come on. Open up.” His voice sounded more urgent. Anxious. Scared. He pounded again.

“Damned, miserable bat,” she muttered angrily. But her hands shook as she pulled a towel off the hook and wrapped it around her body. 

The sound of his fists intensified. She didn’t bother drying herself as she stomped to the door. The noise was like a mallet to her head and she knew she’d find him on the other side wearing his usual arrogant smirk. 

The second the locks were undone, the door swung open and she stumbled backwards. Cassian had no smile, cocky or otherwise, as he burst inside. 

“What the hell is your problem?” she shouted. “You can’t just barge in here!”

He said nothing as his eyes fixated on her arm. Nesta looked down to see a fading, pink line. A mark that could have been from anything. But then Cassian’s hard stare moved behind her, and she knew he was looking at the blade now lying on her bathing room floor. 

When his hazel eyes drifted back to her, she thought she heard - or felt - something crack. Whatever it was, she couldn’t tell if it came from within her, or him, or from out in the hall. His face had fallen in the few seconds he’d been there. As if he’d been punched in the gut and might be sick.

 _Pity_ , she thought, scowling. She didn’t want his damn pity.

“Get the hell out of here!” 

Nesta lunged to push him out of her apartment, expecting resistance and finding none. Cassian fell against the door frame, a wing taking the brunt of the collision. A flash of him lying on a throne room floor, wings shredded and bloody, blurred her vision. When she came back to the present, no more than a second had passed and she found him still staring at her with that pathetic look on his face. Forcing her hand to quit shaking, she pointed to the hallway.

“Go.” His gaze caught on the now invisible wound, so she added with a hiss, “Fine. Leave, stay. I don’t care. I’m going out.”

She turned her back on him and slammed her bedroom door. It took her too long to get dressed. The shaking was worse, but she’d be damned if she’d let him see it. So she waited until her nerves settled before coming out.

The front door was closed. Her apartment was empty. His scent lingered but she ignored it.

In the dimming light, Nesta bolted the locks. She waited another minute to be sure he’d left before taking the creaky stairs down to go… somewhere… anywhere that would let her forget.


End file.
